


Might As Well Face It, You're Addicted To Love

by dancing_homestuck



Category: Heart of Iron - Ashley Poston
Genre: Classic Rock, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Grunge, M/M, Rock Band AU, Slow Burn, and its just the typical abuse we see in the books, classic 'couldnt think of a title and used a song title instead' lol, enemies to bandmates to lovers, he goes from a hot asshole, i'm bad at writing slow burns but im actually really invested in making this painful, or like, robb is a dick at first, they teach him how to be a better person (through example), to a hot asshole with morals, to be clear: the abuse is robb's mom to him, watch out there will be references to music and or musical instruments
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:27:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26310037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dancing_homestuck/pseuds/dancing_homestuck
Summary: Jax has a shitty day job that makes him want to curl into a corner and just stop. But it's fine because he can make it through the work week so long as he gets to let loose with his friends in their band on the weekends.Now if only their bassist hadn't skipped town.Maybe this rich kid who owes Jax a favor can stand in until they find someone better.
Relationships: robb/jax, robbert valerio/jaxander taizu
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	1. Jax

**Author's Note:**

> I'm really excited to start this project! Hope I actually, you know, routinely work on it lol. Some chapters will be mad short, some much longer; definitely longer towards the end. I'm going for the same thing the books did with perspective, so it'll flip between Jax and Robb every chapter.

Venti peppermint mocha, nonfat milk, iced; venti blonde, black, hot; grande vanilla soy latte, hot; trenta soy chai latte, iced; decaf grande skinny vanilla latte with _just a splash_ of half and half, hot; grande nonfat white mocha, no whip, iced. All present, accounted for, and weighing Jax down as he made his way from the Starbucks back to the office.

Were any of these orders for Jax? No. Jax got to drink the operator coffee from the coffee machine that was built the same year the wheel was invented and which he has to filter through his teeth. But that’s fine because he needed that much raw caffeine in his system to get up at 4 to get to the office at 5 so his boss can come in at “9” (9:45) and leave at “5” (4) and then Jax can scrape to be out of there by 6. That’s what happens when you think the health insurance is worth being salaried instead of hourly; it’s wasn’t even good health insurance!

Jax measured his frustration. He should have been glad that he was able to get this salaried position since he’d decided strongly against college. The secretary work itself wasn’t even actually difficult, just boring, soul sucking, and tedious. Oh, and it felt like ass to be the goffer, which, by the way, wasn’t actually in the job description. Sometimes he thought he should be at the community college with Di; he wasn’t actually a _bad_ student, it’s just that nothing interested him enough to bankrupt himself for the rest of his life. Ana was in her last year of high school, she still had options to weigh, though he had a suspicion based on the fact that she tells him basically everything that she’s probably going to take a gap year.

There was no time for his regrets here, though. It was okay to run the rat race so long as he ultimately did get the ability to do things he liked outside of work. He was just going to take this leaning tower of coffee the last block to the office and then later that night, he, Di, and Ana would get to—

“Ak’va!” Jax exclaimed as he collided with a solid mass from out of nowhere.

As if in slow motion, Jax watched as the world around him tipped and the drinks in his hands floated for just a moment, a couple of lids already yielding. He had enough time to think that actually sunlight through sloshing chai was kind of pretty. Then, in a second, he was on his ass on the sidewalk covered in every shade of brown imaginable, ice in his lap, and burning liquid on his shirt.

“Oh, shit,” said a voice from above him. Jax looked up at the brick wall he ran into to find bright blue eyes looking down at him. It was a boy about his age, but he was short where Jax was tall and broad shouldered where Jax was slim. He had an undercut with rich, brown curly hair spilling out, warm, olive-toned skin, and somehow the exact cut of his strong jaw just… annoyed every bone in Jax’s body. He wore a uniform for the nearby private school, and Jax felt revulsed on instinct.

“I’m, uh, I’m really sorry,” the boy said, but he looked anxiously down the street in the direction he’d been apparently headed instead of at Jax, so it felt a lot more like he was sorry for himself to have bumped into someone than for the fact that someone was on the ground because of him. “Sorry, I’m running late, but here you go, hope this helps!”

Before Jax could get out a single word he was watching him run off as a $50 bill fluttered to the ground comically in front of him. Jax picked up the bill. He looked at the mess he was on the street with passer byes walking around him rather than a single one offering to help him up. It finally registered that even the asshole who’d bumped into him hadn’t helped him up, just threw money at him and ran off.

Jax crumpled the bill in his hand, anger and indignation burning under his skin, rivaling the coffee burning on top of his skin. He wanted to scream and tear up the note. But he couldn’t. Because he was sitting in a pile of his boss’ coffee. And he needed to now pick himself off the sidewalk, walk his ass _back_ to Starbucks, order _again_ , wait for it to be ready _again_ , walk himself _back_ down the sidewalk, no doubt past the stain of his current situation, and then get yelled at by his boss for taking so long. Oh, and spend the rest of the day with wet socks.

If he ever saw that guy again, Jax swore that he was going to rip his head clean off.


	2. Robb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robb's introduction

Robb paused to brush any dirt or debris off his uniform and ensure that he didn’t look like he had been running through town, nor that he snuck back into the Academy through a very familiar hole in the fence hidden by bushes. He tried to get his hair to slick back into order, but it was as much a losing cause as ever. Splitting his losses, he decided it wasn’t worth being even later to class than he already was and headed off towards the music building. 

It was so tedious that he’d had to go all the way across town – and do it himself, no less – to get tickets to the show tonight. It couldn’t be helped, however. His usual choice for running errands meant to be kept hush-hush was James, his typical chauffer and, reportedly, his father’s favorite assistant. James, however, was booked the whole day running less hush-hush errands for his mother while Robb was “at” school. Obviously, he could have just used Ticket Master, like the rest of the world, but his phone was so bugged he was surprised it hadn’t popped antennae and legs yet. Even if his phone wasn’t bugged, his bank account was certainly monitored. It’s as if his mother didn’t trust him. How hurtful. So, he’d had to go to the ticket office on his own and buy a real paper ticket with cash. 

His mind strayed to his return trip and he double-checked his shirt for any coffee stains. Spotless. Thank god. It was common enough for him to be late – he had a true knack for entirely forgetting the time – but late with stains would be far too suspicious – he had another true knack for getting into trouble, one which the administration was thoroughly aware of. Or perhaps they were wary of it? 

His thoughts lingered on the boy on the sidewalk. Long limbs, hair so blonde it was white and kept in a long ponytail. He was dressed like any other office worker, but the way he wore a simple button up and work pants just looked somehow better. Or, rather, Robb imagined it would if the coffee stains were disregarded. It really was a shame when his clumsiness becomes a detriment to others, but he paid for the spill and he’d never see that boy again, so it really wasn’t worth dwelling on. 

Robb opened the door to the orchestra room as quietly as he could, pressing on the typically loud handlebars as gently as possible and slipping through the door as soon as it was open enough. The rest of the orchestra was seated, instruments out, though the way they adjusted in their seats and chatted quietly with each other told him that at least their teacher hadn’t started practice just yet. 

As he tip-toed his way to the back of the classroom where his instrument was, he thanked his stars for his luck, for once. Just as he finished his thanks, he felt a shadow loom over him. 

“You are late, Valerio.” Scratch that, Robb’s stars could go fuck themselves, actually.

“Ah, Carnelian, pleasant to see you, too,” Robb said, turning around to meet his classmate. Viera was as chipper as always with a stern and disapproving look on her face. Her uniform was impeccably tidy, as was her platinum blonde hair, as always. On any other girl, he’d assume that hair was bleached at a salon, but Viera wasn’t the type to be bothered by whatever color her hair happened to be. 

“And what has caused you to become held up?” Viera asked. To be honest, it was almost refreshing to be asked such a straightforward question, no matter how hostile the tone. It was strangely hard to find those. 

“Well, it seems that though the cafeteria is graded so very highly, some of their dishes can still make one experience, err, certain discomforts best dealt with in the restrooms.” If you talk about something uncomfortable, people not only believe you, but let you off the hook without ever bringing it up again. 

“I am so sorry your sensitivities were so very unnerved,” Viera sneered, very clearly not buying any of his horseshit, as per usual, “But if you continue to find yourself delayed to rehearsals, I will see to it that you will discover discomforts far greater than that which you found today.” 

Robb gulped. They were big words coming from a very big, very capable individual. He nodded his head, the move of an individual who would like to keep it firmly on his shoulders. 

“Very good,” Viera said, a gleam of satisfaction in her eyes, “Now, get set up, we will be starting soon.” Without waiting for reply, she turned and made her way back to her own seat and instrument. 

Robb rolled his eyes. She was so uptight. Just because she was first chair and thus responsible for the whole section, as if it was like some sort of responsibility or something. Robb himself could have been first chair, too, since he and Viera were on the same level skill-wise, but apparently Viera was more “professional”, “trustworthy”, and “knew how to get to places on time, every time”. He was thus second chair. 

Robb turned back to his case and finally opened it. His bass was gorgeous, a rich dark wood that he himself kept well-polished. For an instrument chosen out of spite, he’d really grown to love how it played. Robb extracted the instrument carefully from its case, his bow already tucked neatly into the quiver attached to the tailpiece. 

He took his seat next to Viera and plucked at his strings, testing their sound. Deep notes reverberated off of them and he did a little hot-crossed-buns for his own entertainment. Seemed everything was in order. Before he could do much more the instructor tapped her stand for their attention. Robb felt a bit cheated that he hadn’t time to get properly warmed up, and then remembered that he had been late. 

He tended to be late or absent to most everything, but, despite what Viera might tell anyone, he never skipped orchestra. It was the one time of his day when all he was thinking about were the notes on his page, the position of his fingers, and rich notes from his bass. Sometimes the music was dreadfully boring to play, an undercurrent for the rest of the ensemble, but skilled conductors like the ones at The Academy knew where to find pieces that truly allowed the basses to shine. Even when it was boring, though, Robb could appreciate how every draw of his bow influenced the tone of the whole piece. The bass was powerful and expressive and at times drove the whole movement. 

Perhaps his mother didn’t fully appreciate the instrument, nor that he was only second chair in an orchestra full of other children who also had the best private instructors money could buy, but that was okay. What his mother didn’t know was something Robb could keep for himself, safe in his heart, just for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know these first chapters are awfully short, but they'll get longer once there's less reason to switch between characters. Besides, the shortness means they're done quicker, which means more frequent updates!


	3. Jax

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jax takes his lunch break

The lunchroom in the office was always clean and tidy. It was pleasant and cheery, with colors that were neither too drab nor migraine-inducing; simply nice. If there was such a thing as an ideal lunchroom, this would be it. Jax entered, grabbed his lunch from the fridge, and left. 

He made his way to a very quiet supply closet in which he’d placed a chair once upon a time and took his seat, setting his lunch on the already-cleared spot of shelving. The lunchroom was an open plan and the tables left no room to hide from his boss who had a habit of wanting something the second Jax sat down. And when Deb wanted something, she wanted it _now_. Jax wanted thirty minutes, just thirty minutes, of his life to himself. 

He’d packed himself a simple sandwich, but when he opened his lunch, he found that somehow some carrot sticks, a baby belle cheese, and half a cookie had found their way into his bag. Jax couldn’t help but smile. He had no idea when Talle slipped all this in, but no doubt it was her. She was such a mama bear sometimes. It made him forget about his impossibly permanently coffee-stained shirt for just a minute. 

He took out his phone and took a picture of the meal, sending it to Talle with a heart and a chef emoji. She’d want to know that he actually sat down and ate, anyway. He then turned his attention to the texts he hadn’t been able to answer while he was working. Elara had sent him a meme, Di had put in the group chat the actual logistics of the night, Riggs had sent him an audio message but when he listened it was just shuffling so Jax wrote that off as Riggs still not knowing how to use his phone. Ana had texted him about ten minutes ago asking after Barger. He hadn’t responded in the chat recently and he wasn’t answering texts or calls. Jax shrugged and replied back, “Only just getting towards 2, probably not awake yet.” 

Barger, who was older than the rest of them by a few years, had a bad habit for late nights. And gambling. And drinking. And being an unpleasant person. He was tolerable, though, and, much more importantly, the only person to fill their position willingly. 

A typing bubble popped up and a moment later Ana’s reply did too. “True,” then, “If he shows up drunk again ill kill him tho” 

Jax smiled. He sent three knife emojis, so they’d show up big, followed by, “Plz do.” Yes, Barger was tolerable, but only just barely. And Ana really would kick his ass if he was stumbling around on stage like _last_ time. If he’s that bad tonight, Jax might even help. 

Jax decided the man deserved at least a chance to be aware of his expectations and texted to Barger, “If u miss the show or come drunk, Anas going to drop kick you to the moon.” The message delivered, but Jax wouldn’t hold his breath for a read receipt. His and Barger’s text thread was not an extensive one, and Barger was known for one-word or no answers. 

He was most of his way through his sandwich and still had a good fifteen minutes until he’d force himself out of the closet (ha) and to reenter the death grips of corporate secretary work. He decided to open up YouTube and listen through a couple songs. He kept his volume down since he was, you know, hiding, but closed his eyes to try and get as much of the sound as he could. Sandwich in his right hand, he mimed the notes to play with his left. 

He just had to get through the rest of the day, and tonight was going to be great. 

It was more of a prayer than a belief, but it would do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha, this one's extra short, but don't worry, I have like two other chapters already written that I plan to upload like right after this.


	4. Robb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robb is home from school

Private fencing on Saturdays, Mondays, and Wednesdays. Private contrabass on Sundays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays. Private lessons in the Old Language on Fridays. Private business and accounting lessons on the weekends. Private solitary study on days ending in y. Private dinners by himself taken in his room every night. Robbert Valerio lived a very private life that ticked along like clockwork.   
It was enough to make him scream. 

As his language instructor packed his things, Robb made himself a timetable. It was 5 now. The show was at 8, but he should get there early to make his plan more believable. That meant leaving by 6:30. He’d stay for the show then text James for a ride. If all went well, he’d be back in his bed by 11 and no one will have missed him. 

He’d already changed out of his school uniform into khakis and a loose button up, so he was plenty casual for the show. He supposed he’d just spend the remaining time as if it were a typical afternoon. Robb made his way through the maze of his home, moving through corridors of polished black stone and white walls with gold-trimmed crown molding. Black doors with gold accents lead into the seemingly endless set of rooms and made the halls look even longer than they were. No matter how many guests were invited over for galas or visits the house was never truly full. There were always rooms left untouched, save for the staff who cleaned them needlessly. 

Robb opened one of the doors and entered his musical study. Eric’s musical study was towards the center of the house where his mother could keep an eye on and listen to his brother’s playing. She always loved the violin. Robb’s musical study was in the far east wing of the house and well sound proofed. He’s pretty sure his mother didn’t even dislike the contrabass before he started playing it.   
Inconvenient as it may have been, Robb actually didn’t mind not being directly under his mother’s eye. If she didn’t want to hear him play, then she wouldn’t much care about what exactly he was playing, now would she? His contrabass sat in its case in its designated corner where one of the staff brought it from the car, but Robb headed for the cushioned bench underneath the room’s window. Pulling the curtain shut, he lifted the seat of the built-in bench to a small pile of old beginner music books. Moving a few books aside, however, revealed a small tab that he pulled on to open a secret compartment in the bench. There he kept his electric bass. 

Kept in the padded cloth case that came with it, Robb pulled it out and treated it with care. He’d gotten bored playing only classical music, and in his spare time had fallen down a rabbit hole of modern pieces written for classical instruments. It was only natural to find even more interesting pieces for an electric bass. Plucking at his contrabass’ strings was nice and all, but the more music he listened to the more he wanted badly to have a bass guitar of his own. So, naturally, he did what anyone would do and spent the next few weeks taking out small, unnoticeable amounts of cash until he had enough to go to the store and buy himself one. He got a real beauty, too, jet black with a glossy finish, a maple neck, and a rosewood fingerboard. He kept it well polished and cared for to a religious extent.   
If his mother was disappointed in him for playing a contrabass, he can’t imagine she’d be any more enthused about an electric one. He could hear her now, sounding exactly like a character from a Disney Original, “Valerios don’t play rock and roll.” What his mother didn’t know couldn’t hurt him, though. 

He was careful, always so careful. The door was always locked, the window’s curtain always drawn, the room was soundproof and he still played with headphones on. He kept his music sheets digitally on a tablet he bought off a kid at school that his mother didn’t know about nor track the use of. The only other person who even knew the bass guitar existed was James, who’d driven him to the store, and he doubted the man kept a small errand from five years ago in mind. 

It was exhausting to always be so careful, but he’d been careless enough times in the past to know the price he’d pay. It was either carefulness or being nothing but a puppet with his mother pulling the strings. He didn’t think the world needed a second Eric.

Robb plugged the bass into one port on an amp and his headphones into another. It was a shame the amp wasn’t used properly, but it, along with the other miscellaneous musical equipment in this room, wouldn’t be seeing any action otherwise anyway. Some days he followed sheet music, some days he’d listen to songs or videos and try to recreate them by ear, some days he just messed around trying to recall music by memory or playing whatever came to mind. He felt aimless in his study of the instrument, but it was freeing to play just for the sake of playing. He didn’t play to be heard or judged or measure up to anyone or please anyone. He simply played what he wanted when he wanted how he wanted because he wanted, and it being good or bad had no repercussions either way.

Today he decided to play through a bit of sheet music he had. He played a lot of 80s and 90s rock, really pop rock. It was easy to find, and there were plenty of interesting pieces. He pulled out his tablet from a pocket of the bass’ case, set it on a music stand, and sat himself into the corner of the bench. He began to strum, and the world melted away for just a little while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise things will pick up in a minute! Meanwhile, I must apologize for the sin of putting a character in khakis, but you see, simply put: Robb would bc he's a little rich boy living in a little rich boy world and that's what they think normal people wear. Have no fear, however, for his choices will have consequences


	5. Jax

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting ready to roll on out!

Jax sighed in satisfaction as he finally finished drying his hair. The upkeep was obnoxious, but you couldn’t argue with the results; few others could lay claim to a meter of silver hair. It felt nice to be showered, dried, and in fresh clothes. He could finally find some peace. 

“Jax! Hurry up!” Ana called, banging on his door. Jax sighed again. Oh well, peace was overrated anyway. 

“I’m coming!” He yelled back. Easy for her to rush him with a puppy following her around and helping her get ready. Jax tied his hair into a quick ponytail and grabbed the duffel of show-prep stuff he’d pre-packed. 

He opened his door to find Di hurrying down the hallway saying, “Ana, you did not let me finish!” Maybe calling Di a puppy was harsh, but he wouldn’t if he didn’t look at Ana with those big old eyes of his. 

Jax followed them down the hall and a set of stairs into the kitchen. Ana stood still for once in her life – as still as she could, anyway, a toe tapping away to some unheard song – as Di finished her braid. Ana wore her black hair in a long braid down the middle of her head, the rest of it shaved. She said it was because it was punk, but Jax knew it was for convenience’s sake. She had golden-brown eyes set into a heart-shaped face and warm bronze skin. Her eyes sparkled with excitement, which was typically a sign of either a show or trouble. Sometimes both. 

Di stood behind her being the physical embodiment of all the patience Ana lacked as he carefully finished off her braid. He was pale and tall, recently grown from being gangly to actually fitting his height. His blood-red hair was currently tied in a knot, but it typically had a mind of its own, falling down around his sharp face. Paired with his dark brows and dark eyes he had a very serious look to him, but Jax had seen him cry over a video of a small robot being, “too cute,” so his reputation in that area was ruined already. 

Riggs and Wick were playing a game of cards at the kitchen table. They were on the older side and rarely came to gigs – Wick’s hearing was bad enough anyway, and if Wick wasn’t going neither was Riggs – but they both always saw them off and welcomed them home. Riggs was gruff and permanently skinny with scratchy gray stubble decorating his chin. He had lost his family and his leg in a bad accident a long time ago. Once or twice he’d shown Jax a picture of his family he kept on a locket, two happy looking kids, a beautiful wife, and him. Jax didn’t know nearly as much history about Wick, dark brown skin saggy in that way old men got with gray dreadlocks pulled into a ponytail behind him, but he had all sorts of tall tales to tell and was the one to teach him guitar, so really what other history could matter? 

Talle, short with black, pixie cut hair, was cleaning up some pots and pans at the sink. She wasn’t as old as Riggs and Wick, but she did have the start of crows’ feet and smile lines etched into her face. “Hey, Jax!” she called, then pointed to a stack of plastic Tupperware in bags that held their dinners for the evening, “Can you take these out to the van?”

“Sure thing,” Jax answered, securing his duffel on his shoulder so he could hold the bags in his hands. 

He was about to consider how to juggle the bags and the approaching door when the door opened itself, or rather Lenda opened it from the other side. She was a couple years older than him and squarely built with old scars from time spent in fighting rings adorning her arms like trophies well-won. Her brownish-blonde hair hung around shoulder length and framed her narrow brown eyes, and her skin was tawny with rose undertones. 

“Oh, hey, let me take one of those for you,” she offered, and Jax handed her one of the bags in his hands. Before heading back out she called into the kitchen, “Hey, Ana! Siege says that if you want your drum kit, you better come and put it in the van yourself!” 

“Coming!” Ana said, and the three of them walked through to the open garage and the van parked outside it currently being loaded up. 

“There you are, Sparkles!” Elara greeted. She was short and curvy with short-cropped silver hair in a style that on anyone else Jax would refer to as “soccer mom” but on her simply made her black-eyeliner-and-lipstick look more dramatic. Her wide eyes were violet, and her skin was apricot compared to Jax’s too-often-mistaken-as-a-ghost white. She was helping Xu, her partner, pack up some of the equipment. Xu was tall with high cheekbones, dark eyes, and tanned skin. They kept their black hair long and didn’t typically style it except when Elara would take it upon herself to braid it this way and that. They were a quiet person for the most part, which was good since Elara talked enough for the two of them. 

“’Bout time you two beauty queens got yourselves down here,” Siege said. Siege wasn’t particularly tall, but she stood in a way that made you think she was. She filled a room and commanded respect wherever she went. Her eyes were a sharp stone-green and she wore her black curly hair large and filled with pieces wrapped in golden thread. 

Siege’s job was not a topic to be discussed, but if it were to be discussed it may err a bit on the, as some might put it, illegitimate side of odd jobs. The house was largely a boarding house for her crew, a group that waxed and waned as needed. Riggs and Wick had been with her and Talle for forever, Lenda and Barger were newer additions, and there were plenty of people who had stayed for as little as a night and as long as years before moving on.

It was an interesting place to grow up, especially compared to Jax’s previous living arrangements, but he thought he, Ana, and Di came out no worse for it. After all, they’re all well fed, educated – Di was studying to be a _doctor_ for goddess’ sake – and Siege and Talle have always been there when they needed them. Like when Ana decided she wanted to start a band; Siege may have sighed about it and certainly set some ground rules, but she never missed a show, let Ana use the van, and was the one to even get her the drum set in the first place. 

“Sorry, Captain,” Jax said, getting his duffel and the food into the van and then going to help the others, “But you know my good looks are he only thing keeping the fans coming.” 

“Ah, yes,” Di said dryly, having followed Ana out (definitely a puppy), “The throngs of fans shouting your name. Plus, all 13 of our Instagram followers.” 

“53,” Xu corrected, being the one that actually did most of the managing of the account.

“Wow, is it actually that many?” Ana asked. 

“Yes,” Xu answered, “With an average of 16.3 likes and 1.8 comments per post.”

That wasn’t very much. The band they were opening for had something like 20,000 followers and, you know, enough to fans to be able to justify holding their own concert with an opener. Ana didn’t believe in small milestones, though. Anything that was forward movement counted as victory in her book. That kind of aggressively positive outlook was a big part of what made this all work. If Jax was honest, had anyone else asked him to join a band he would have simply said no. When Ana asked, though, he couldn’t imagine letting someone else play guitar in his best friend’s band. He was certainly glad for it now; it was one of the only things he looks forward to anymore.

As he helped pack, Jax went through a mental checklist of everything. Once this was all done, Siege, Talle, Di, and Ana would take the van and he would drive Lenda, Elara, Xu, and Barger in a separate vehicle – turns out a drum set and audio equipment take up passenger space, go figure. 

“Has anyone figured out where the fuck Barger is?” Jax asked. He’d almost forgotten about the irritable and irritating man. 

“When’s the last time you saw the old fart?” Elara asked. 

“I have not seen him in three days and 20-some hours, since practice on Monday,” Di answered, always so precise. 

“Me neither,” Ana chipped in. 

“I think I saw him like 2 AM Tuesday?” Lenda said, “I was just up for a glass of water, don’t remember it much.” Barger technically lived with them, but he kept odd hours and went out often, so it wasn’t unusual to not see him for a few days.

“Hasn’t been responsive to Talle or I,” Siege said, the look on her face serious, “I’ve called around. With any hope he’ll show up at the venue.” 

Not answering when the captain called? Jax would not like to be in Barger’s shoes. The man better be dead, else he’ll be wishing he were soon. 

At this point, it was a bit late to worry about Barger showing. They were lucky to get booked as an opener and would be stupid to give up this opportunity, even if their songs would sound off without a bass. Maybe Di could save their asses with his synths or something. 

Whatever happened, though, Jax was determined to have a good time. He was going to go on stage, play with his friends, get some applause – even if it was simply polite applause – and this awful day and that awful boy and his awful boss would be behind him, completely forgotten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, we're almost there, I swear! The set up will all have been worth it, I promise.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! More to come! If you liked what you read, comments and kudos are my life blood and salvation! Also, feel free to hit me up at onstarsandiron.tumblr.com for more HoI stuff!


End file.
